


Passing Through

by days4daisy



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Luke Skywalker Has a Type, M/M, Post-Rogue One, Post-Star Wars: A New Hope, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:55:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9375446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: There is a stranger in Tosche Station. Luke's eyes are wandering.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [atlanticslide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlanticslide/gifts).



> Your letter sold me on this pairing completely, atlanticslide! Hope you enjoy :)

Tosche Station is quiet today. Luke tries to keep his mind on his power converters. He holds one in each hand, as if weight will predict their success. More friends have left for the Academy, and boredom is setting in. Luke had to cancel his application again this year. Uncle Owen still needs him at home. There won’t be enough credits to hire help until next season. Outside of his family, Luke doesn’t have much left on this rock.

He's set his spice beer on a work table, sold outside by the Dobrevan Bazda. With a wink, Bazda warned him to mind the strong stuff. A ring has sweat from the metal can to the table.

Luke hasn't heard any word from Biggs. Did he make it to the Rebellion? Is he flying missions against the Empire? Biggs and Luke used to sit out on the platform here at Tosche. They whispered about Rebellion rumors and dreamed about fighting for freedom in the galaxy together.

Biggs is a great pilot and an even better man. He’s up there making a difference, Luke is sure of it. He's happy for Biggs, even though it means his old friend can't return home any time soon. Luke misses Biggs, and he misses his friends.

The stranger across the shop looks a little like Biggs. A stubbled jaw and a slim mustache. Dark hair swept to the side by careless fingers. His clothes are plain, a simple green flight jacket over a matching t-shirt. The stranger shrugs out of the jacket, mopping his brow with the back of a hand. He can't be from around here. A native wouldn't mind the desert heat. His t-shirt hugs his arms, slim but contoured by muscle. His black pants are belted low on his waist. Luke shouldn’t be looking.

Their eyes meet. The stranger’s are dark, wary but curious. “Those power converters?” he asks, nodding at Luke’s hands.

Luke holds them out, balanced in one hand so he can bring his beer with him. “Sure are,” he confirms. “Tosche is the best supply hub on Tatooine.” Luke shrugs. “Not saying much, I know. You looking for converters?”

The stranger looks at the devices by way of answer. “You old enough for that drink?” he asks.

Luke balks at the insinuation. “Bazda sells ‘em out front. They’re pretty potent, if you’re not used to them.”

“Good to know.” The stranger takes the converters from Luke’s hands. His fingers are clean and long.

Luke notes the blaster strapped to his waist. Definitely not Imperial licensed. He doesn’t look like an officer, but it’s hard to say. Every once in awhile they'll send scouts in plain clothes. “You from around here?” Luke asks.

This earns a smile. “No. Just passing through.”

Luke should be offended by the flippant brush-off. But hey, he hates this place too, and he _lives_ here! “Yeah, Tatooine is kind of boring.” He perks up. “You a pilot?” 

“No.” The stranger’s eyes betray his humor. “I just check out converters for fun.”

“Hey, converters _are_ fun!” Luke shoots back. “Not like there’s much else to do around here. I’m bored out of my head half the time! Thought I’d be at the Academy by now, but, well... I live with my aunt and uncle. Not enough credits to hire extra hands this year. I help with the crops and keep the Sand People out. I’m a pilot too! I want to be anyway. I do the dusting, and me and my friends fly out from here sometimes. Rented cruisers, basic stuff. One day I’ll be a real pilot. I know my stuff, it’s just the credits, you know? Besides, you can’t buy a good ship out here. Best shot is junk up for sale in Mos Eisley. You ever been there? Not a nice place, I’ve heard. Way more quiet here.” He’s rambling.

The stranger is somewhere between bewildered and amused. “Academy, huh?” His eyes narrow. “That your dream, kid? Get off this rock and join the Imperial militia?”

“No way!” Luke bites the inside of a cheek. He shouldn't talk about the Rebellion with someone he doesn’t know. It's the fastest way to get himself in trouble. “I mean, we all have to see where life takes us, I guess.”

The stranger laughs. Luke likes the sound, and the little crinkles next to his eyes. “What’s your name?” he asks.

“Luke Skywalker,” Luke answers.

“Skywalker, huh? You’re destined for the stars with a name like that.”

Luke wants to ask about all the different worlds he’s been to. But he’s already spoken enough, and he feels warm all over. “What’s yours?” he asks instead.

“Cassian,” the stranger replies. He doesn't give a last name.

“Nice to meet you, Cassian.” The name is easy on Luke’s tongue. Almost as easy as ‘Biggs.’ Luke is staring again. “You in town long?”

Cassian glances at the power converters. “A day or two. Depends on repairs. How about I stock up here, then you show me where you got that spice beer?”

“Yeah, sure! I could use another one anyway. I don’t get out here much. My uncle needs me at home a lot.”

“You’re a good kid,” Cassian says. “Helping your family like that.”

Luke is _not_ a kid. But Cassian’s compliment is soft and well-intentioned. His expression is less-guarded, and his eyes have warmed to a more inviting charcoal. Luke decides not to hold the comment against him.

“Need any help picking out a converter?” Luke asks. The beer’s condensation wets the inside of his palm.

Cassian doesn’t smile, but Luke can tell he’s amused. “I need to patch up the landing ignition for a UT-60D. Should be a quick fix once I get the right-”

“You’re in a U-Wing?” Luke cuts in. “The ones from Incom? I’ve heard about them! They’re like the BT-45D’s, right?”

Cassian doesn’t speak for a moment. “That’s right,” he says finally. “The BT-45D’s don’t have a-”

“Hyperdrive, I know! Or most other combat add-ons. For the landing ignition, you’re definitely going to want the Model-X3.”

Cassian’s brow arches. “That so?”

“Oh yeah,” Luke enthuses. “The X3 is way better for central functions. TT7 would be better for your higher charge stuff. Cannon reroutes and what not. But yeah, X3. I’m sure of it.”

Luke _is_ sure. He may be a kid next to Cassian, but one thing he’s always known is starships. Luke hasn’t come into contact with many, but he knows as much about their inner workings as anyone. Uncle Owen may have kept him out of the Academy for another year, but Luke is already learning. Biggs said he would be top of the class without sitting through one lecture!

Cassian shrugs, but it looks like he approves. “X3 it is.” He sets down the TT7 and glances at the can in Luke’s hand. “So, where’s this Bazda?”

Luke’s fingers twitch around the beer. “Out back. Come on, I'll show ya!” He waves for Cassian to follow. The lead position forces Luke to concentrate on where he’s going. Not on the eyes he feels sliding down his back.

***

Luke is going to get it big time when gets home. Uncle Owen hates when he heads out to Tosche Station. But it riles him up more when the suns begin to set and Luke isn't home.

Luke showed Cassian Bazda’s stand with the spice beer. Then, he walked him around Tosche Station, showed him the ins and outs. Then, they sat out on the wall and talked starships and upgrades. Luke told him it was where he said goodbye to his best friend. That was a dumb thing to say.

Then, Luke figured Cassian had to be getting hungry, so he showed him over to Kissel’s for dinner. Oasis Cantina was open right next door, and Cassian asked if Luke had to be getting home. Which - yes, Luke should have been getting home, but he didn’t want to. Besides, he couldn't just leave Cassian alone and bored!

“You sure I’m not keeping you?” Cassian asks. The question comes with a smile, like they're playing a game that Luke hasn’t figured out the rules to yet. “The last thing I need is your uncle on my tail.”

“Uncle Owen’ll have my head before he has anyone else’s,” Luke assures him. Which, he realizes, is a dumb thing to say too.

Cassian laughs again - a rare thing, Luke has learned. Luke still likes the sound, and the gentle lines by his eyes. He wishes he could brush a thumb over them without getting himself in even more trouble.

Oasis Cantina’s windows have no glass. Slits are carved through thick, stone walls. The light is getting low, Tatooine's twin suns only a sliver behind the dunes. The sky's pink hue fades to a bruised blue. The temperature is falling, but Luke still feels warm. His hand is less than an inch from Cassian’s on the bar. He grabs his drink quickly. Cassian offered to buy, so long as Luke didn’t have to be getting home. Home, right now, is the furthest thing from Luke’s mind.

Cassian is saying something about trade markets on the Outer Rim. He hopes the trouble won’t spread out here. Tatooine is remote, but its population depends on free trade to make a living. Luke nods along. The barkeeps light lamps as night settles. Cassian’s eyes flicker in the changing light. He has really nice eyes.

Luke flattens his hand on the counter again. All except his pinkie, which drapes over Cassian’s. Their fingers form a small 'x.' Cassian’s brow rises. “You still with me, kid?”

Luke nods enthusiastically. “Oh yeah. My friend told me about the currency changes when he was out here last time. Tatooine's so far out, things should take awhile to get here. But you never know.”

Maybe Luke is being stupid. Cassian probably wants to get back to his ship. He hasn’t even had a chance to put in the X3! Maybe he has a droid to help? Luke hasn’t asked.

Luke really hasn’t learned much about Cassian today. All Luke knows is that he's well-traveled and isn’t a fan of the Empire. Cassian hasn't spoken out against them, but he's still made his feelings known. Twitches and terse noises whenever the Empire comes up in conversation. And he’s keeping a close eye out everywhere they go. Cassian checks Oasis’ door any time a newcomer walks in. Luke wants to tell him not to worry about Stormtroopers; they’re too busy trying to keep the peace in Mos Eisley. But that would expose too much about Luke’s allegiances. He trusts Cassian, but everyone else here? Not so much.

Uncle Owen would give him a piece of his mind if he were here. He’d say Luke trusts too easily and always assumes the best about people. Luke doesn’t though! He knows when to keep quiet and when to speak his mind. Tatooine, though secluded, isn’t a friendly place. Luke knows how to watch out for himself.

He's just always had a sense about people. His instincts haven’t failed him yet, and his instincts say that Cassian is all right. Or maybe it’s that Cassian looks like Biggs. Luke misses Biggs, he really does.

The tip of his pinkie curls, scaling Cassian’s second knuckle. It’s getting pretty dark. Getting home is going to be rough with the Sand People out. Maybe Cassian has room for Luke wherever he's staying? Maybe he's just sleeping in his U-Wing? Maybe he'll let Luke sleep in his U-Wing too?

“You should go home,” Cassian tells him. “It gets bad around these parts after dark.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Luke counters. Cassian's mouth opens just enough to notice. Luke’s mind conjures up fifty bad ideas, each one more exciting than the last. He glances around. No one is looking at them. Caution exercised, he covers Cassian’s entire hand with his own. It’s warm and hard, knuckles scarred. From what? Working on his ship? Doing trade in the Outer Rim? Is he a smuggler? Is he, maybe, part of the Rebellion?

Cassian pulls his hand out from under Luke’s. “You should go home,” he repeats.

Luke scowls, petty but hurt. “Fine.” He stands and stamps a handful of credits on the counter. “I can pay my own way,” he states, “even if I’m just some stupid kid.”

“I never said you were stupid.” Cassian's jaw clenches. He probably thinks Luke is being dramatic.

What does Cassian know anyway? Luke isn't some dumb farm boy. He gets what it means to make a choice and stick to it, even when that choice leaves him for bigger and better things. Luke knows what it’s like to be left behind, and he doesn’t regret it. He’s never regretted it. If Biggs were here now, Luke would tell him to his face.

Why didn’t Luke tell Biggs before he left? He may never see him again.

Luke stalks out of the cantina. The desert streets are quiet and dark. Stars flash overhead like blaster fire. Maybe it isn’t too late to get home after all. He’ll have to push his cruiser, but he doesn't have far to go.

Cassian joins him outside, hands in the pockets of his flight jacket. “You leave your cruiser at Tosche?” he asks. Luke nods. “I’ll walk you. I’m docked in one of the hangars out there.”

“I can walk myself,” Luke snaps. With a glare, he starts down the dusty street. The road is even quieter in this direction, Tosche Station up past the main part of town. Beyond, sand dunes swell like dark waves

“Walk me then.” Luke turns back, catching Cassian's smile. “You know the way.”

Cassian knows the way too, Luke has no doubt. He's too smart to let himself get lost in a new place. The blaster under his jacket claims as much.

Luke glowers at him, but he nods again and leads the way back. Cassian follows close enough for Luke to feel him. Each pad of his boot in the sand creates new ideas in his mind. But they're all pointless. Cassian is like any other traveler. He thinks he’s better than Luke. He’s older, he’s seen more.

They reach the stone steps winding to the station’s upper level. “I’m around back,” Luke mutters.

“I'm up top,” Cassian says. “Guess this is where we part ways.”

“I guess so.” Luke spits the words like a bad taste.

Cassian pulls his hands out from his pockets, palms up in a show of deference. “Thanks,” he says. "You're good company, Luke." Maybe Luke is being too-trusting again, but it sounds like he means it.

Cassian is a web of stories Luke can't begin to unravel. Why is he really on Tatooine? Why is he alone?

Before Luke can lose his nerve, he grabs a handful of Cassian’s jacket and pulls him close. Cassian's mouth is cool, shocking open at their unexpected contact. He doesn’t respond.

An awkward silence follows. Cassian's eyes freeze on his, wide and startled. Luke scrambles for any excuse. “Sorry,” is all he manages.

“Don’t do that,” Cassian grits. His hands are on Luke's arms.

“Sorry.” Luke means it this time. Maybe Cassian has someone? Maybe he has a whole family! It isn’t fair to go after someone just because Luke is alone with a head full of dreams. He braces himself to be shoved away and called bad things. It wouldn't be the first time.

Cassian doesn't push him. He also doesn't look happy. “Don’t do that,” he repeats.

“I’m-” Luke means to say he’s sorry for a third time, but Cassian kisses him before he can. Luke's surprise becomes an encouraging sigh. He embraces Cassian, fingers hooked into his jacket. Cassian ruffles his hair like Biggs used to do.

“You’re going to get hurt,” Cassian warns quietly. “You’re going to trust the wrong person.” The words ghost across Luke's mouth.

Luke may get himself hurt one day. He may trust the wrong person. But right now, he trusts Cassian. He _knows_ he can trust Cassian.

Cassian backs away enough to look him in the eye again. Luke stares back, unflinching. He wants to prove to Cassian that he isn’t just some kid. But Luke can’t help himself, they’re standing so close! He leans up and rubs his nose against Cassian’s.

Cassian’s mouth quirks in a disbelieving smirk. “We’re not doing this,” he says. Luke nods along, fascinated by how close they still are. When Cassian speaks, Luke can _feel_ his voice.

Cassian licks his lips. Luke’s eyes shoot towards them. “It’s not safe out,” Cassian decides. “You can head back in the morning.” Luke nods again, still fixated on Cassian’s mouth. His pulse is frantic.

Cassian chuckles, and Luke can’t help himself. He brushes the side of Cassian's face, a thumb over the gentle lines beside his eye. Cassian nudges the inside of Luke's palm with his lips. Luke smooths fingers across his brow. His mustache rasps on Luke’s wrist. “Upstairs,” Cassian tells him.

Luke recognizes the direction, but it seems to exist in a vacuum. He coaxes Cassian’s face back to his. Cassian’s skin is warm under his touch.

“Fuck, you’re distracting.” Cassian directs him towards the stairs. “Up.”

 _Distracting_. Luke plays the word over in the quiet of Cassian’s voice. He starts up the stairs, glancing back every few steps to make sure Cassian is following. He is.

At the top of the stairs, he links a hand with Cassian's, thumb crossing his wrist. He’s gratified by the arm Cassian loops around his shoulders. It's a protective gesture, a one-night claim. Luke’s fingers stray under his jacket. He plays Cassian's ribs through his t-shirt like console keys. Cassian’s arm tightens. Luke kisses his jaw, his chin, his mouth, his nose. Cassian snorts. “We’re not at the hangar yet.”

Luke hums like he cares and kisses him again. Cassian’s free arm slides around his waist. Luke feels enveloped; safe and in danger.

For a crazy second, Luke thinks of asking for a ride off Tatooine once Cassian’s U-Wing is fixed. Luke isn't a bad pilot, and he’s handy with tools. Wherever Cassian is going, Luke is sure he'd earn his keep. They could have so many adventures together!

But Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru are here. So is the farm. So is everything Luke has ever known. “Sorry,” Luke relents. “Which hangar are you in?”

It’s not his time to go. But it will be soon.

***

Han didn't peg the kid for the party-hard type. But it still surprises him when he can't find Luke anywhere in the celebration on Yavin 4. Han asks after him but comes up empty. Even Chewie can't track Luke down. If a seven-foot tall Wookiee can’t spot a guy, he's not in the room.

Han finally finds Luke in an open cross-section of the old base, hallways giving way to an indoor courtyard. The space has been turned into a memorial. Medals of honor like the ones they wear around their necks are framed on the walls. Memorial stones stand proudly. Photographs smile back from cases. 

Luke stands in front of a wall. He's looking at a plaque, simple black slab granite. When Han approaches, he sees names etched in white.

It’s been a rough few days for Luke. Han is numb to losing people by now, but the kid isn't. Out of the blue, his aunt and uncle turned up dead. Then, that Ben character was taken out by Vader. Han thought he was an old fossil, but Luke cared about the guy. And there was that old friend of Luke's from home; Biggs, or something like that? One of the fighter pilots?

Maybe Han should leave Luke alone, but he doesn’t like seeing people down if he can help it. Luke’s crazy, but he’s a good kid. "Hey," he greets.

Luke glances at him, then looks back at the names. His hand grazes the second one on the list. Han squints over Luke’s shoulder. _Cassian Andor_. Luke’s finger lingers on the ‘or.’ Above the list, a simple title reads:

  
**Rogue One  
Never Forget**  


Must be some Rebel battle squadron? Han hasn't heard of them.

Luke retraces that one name like it means something. “Know him?” Han asks.

Luke smiles, but there’s no joy to it. “Yeah, I did.” He breaks eye contact. “The Death Star. Cassian... He helped transmit the plans from Scarif. He died so we could do this, Han. They all did.”

Han is no Rebel soldier, even after the past 48 hours. But he’s begrudgingly accepted that he cares about the cause. The galaxy is going to hell; every once in awhile it's worth doing something to help.

He sets a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “They started it, Luke. You finished it.”

“It’s not finished,” Luke whispers. He sounds like he's got a whole planet on his shoulders.

Han remembers the kid in Mos Eisley who bristled over hiring a ship for 10,000 credits. Maybe it isn’t fair to expect that boy to still be around. But it’ll be a shame if he’s gone for good. A damn shame.

“This part's done,” Han insists. “Whatever comes next? I don’t know, kid. We’ll do what we can.”

“We?” Luke meets his eyes.

Han scowls at his slip. “For now,” he grumbles. “The Falcon needs repairs, and-”

Han trails off when Luke covers his hand. “You remind me of him,” Luke says. “Cassian. You would have liked him, I think.”

Han nods. They’ve lost enough already without imagining what could have been. “Need some time?” he asks.

Luke traces _Cassian Andor_ one last time, like he’s committing the feel of the name to memory.

With a shake of his head, Luke faces Han fully. “Up for another round?”

Han grins, encouraged, and hooks an arm over Luke’s shoulders. “Princess is buying,” he says.

Together, they return to the celebration in their honor. And in memory of those who came before.

*The End*


End file.
